Confronted
by astha22
Summary: Sequel to "Face to face," third in the Dramoine series. Harry confronts Draco, telling him the consequences if Draco ever hurts Hermione!


_**Author's Note:- And… I'm back. I had promised myself that "Wolfnapped—A Twilight fan fic" would be my last fic, what with college and all, but Morning Dew made me see how much of a wuss I'm being. So… I'm writing again. This is the third in my Dramoine series, after "You're Not Alone" and "Face off".**_

_**CONFRONTED**_

I watched, mildly interested, as Tom got rid of yet another babbling drunkard. Bartendry, it seems, is not a gentleman's profession.

Pity.

"Hi there," said someone, clapping me on the back. I turned automatically, and stared into the most beautifully emerald green eyes I have ever seen.

Fuck.

"Mind if I sit here?" Harry Potter asked, already pulling out a chair.

"Yes," I muttered, but he just smiled and sat his ass down.

He took a long swig from his bottle of butterbeer, those eyes set on me… scanning. My palms were turning kind of sweaty, and it irritated me. Why was he here anyway? I hadn't done anything wrong, had I? Then why was the golden boy here, staring holes into me?

Nervously, I took another gulp of firewhiskey.

"Heard you proposed to Hermione."

And spat it all out.

"Wha—?" I sat there, my jaw scraping the ground, while he grinned at me. Realizing how silly I looked, I promptly collected my jaw off the floor and snapped it shut. "Is that why you are here? Where did you here about it?"

"From my ecstatic friend of course," he shrugged. "She and Ginny are shrieking about it right now, bringing the entire house down. Poor Teddy was cowering under the table when I got home. So when did you?"

"Cower under the table?"

"Propose her, you dolt! Don't," he warned before I could tell him to surd off. "Don't snap at me. We have to be civil now. I am your fiancée's best friend."

I shuddered with a mixed feeling of contentment and mingled anxiety. I have a fiancée. Scary. Wonderful.

"Last night."

An eyebrow came up. "And I hear about it now?"

"We were…uh, busy celebrating."

The smug smile simply slid off his face. I think he paled too, though the dim lighting of the Leaky Cauldron could be misleading me. "Don't," he begged, his hands on his ears. "Not Hermione. Please. No."

It was too irresistible. "Oh come on, Pott—Harry. You know we live together, don't you? Of course we make l—"

"Enough!" he yelled. "Let's talk about something else. She's almost my sister, dude. I'm begging you. Can we _please_ talk about something else? Like… Mrs. Granger! Yes! She's all praises for you!"

"I'm glad," I smirked. He was funny when he blushed. Then my amused bubble burst as I thought about the other thing I needed to talk to him about. "Er… Do you know where Weasley is?"

Potter—Harry sighed. "Why? Want to bash him up or something? Get in line."

"Yes, but that's not the reason I'm asking you. Hermione is…scared about him. She thinks he needs help. She still… cares"—I gritted my teeth as I said it—"for him. So… just wanted to know where he is. He's been out of the papers lately."

"Let me get this straight. You want to keep an eye on Ron because Hermione still cares for him?"

"Yeah," I said, chuckling half-heartedly at his thunderstruck expression. "I have gone sappy, all the way. Laugh if you want to, I won't kick you teeth in or hex you."

"I _was_ planning on proposing to Ginny," he said in a mortified whisper. "Now I'm gonna seriously rethink that. You're scary."

"Don't change the topic, alright? Where's Ronald?"

"Rehab," he answered. "For alcohol abuse and anger management. Ginny checked him in."

"Good," I muttered, then back-tracked. "I mean, for him. It's not good that he's in rehab, but…err… good for him to get help. Maybe I'll tell Hermione to visit him this weekend or something."

"When did you start being so gentlemanly and so…understanding?" His mouth was slightly agape as he said it, and I had to stop a chuckle.

"Ever since I fell in love," I replied honestly.

"That reminds me." The smug look slowly came back in his eyes, making me squirm involuntarily. "I came to talk to you about the Hermione."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just came by to warn you. If you _ever_ hurt her, physically or emotionally, I will personally hunt you down, castrate you with a rusty spoon, and then proceed to make your life a living hell, even if I have to petition for personal Dementor stalkers for you. Am I in any way unclear, Mal—Draco?"

He thinks I'll hurt my Hermione? I will die before I let someone hurt her—emotionally or physically. We have been through our own personal hells, and this is our reward. A lifetime of togetherness. A lifetime of love. Hurting Hermione wasn't a verb in my dictionary, so…

"Moot point."

Harry looked at me intensely again, his eyes roving over my face. What was he looking for, a lie? Then he relaxed. "Heard you bought her a book on Heigner's forty-eight uses of Salamander hide. Do you honestly read that shit?"

And we were okay again.

_**Please please please review. Do you want me to do something else? A wedding? A next generation? Send me reviews regarding ideas for a (strictly one-shot) sequel, people. I may or may not write anymore, but why should that stop you? Thanks.**_


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